As Tom was walking through the town towards his lodgings he overtook Hoskyns. They walked down the street together, talking about the trial, which was fixed for the following Monday. Mr. Baldry, the wine and spirit merchant, was standing at the door of his counting-house as they approached. Judging from the appearance of Mr. Baldry’s face, most people would have concluded that he was rather too fond of his own stock in trade, and most people would have been right in their supposition. Hoskyns stopped to speak to him, and proffered his snuff-box as usual. Tom nodded to him. “You can send me another dozen of that claret—the same as the last,” said Hoskyns. “That is if you, have any of it left in stock.” “I’ll make an effort to find enough for an old friend,” said Baldry, facetiously. “By-the-by,” he added, “since how long a time is it that you have taken to rambling by moonlight along lonely country roads after ten o’clock at night?” “I have not the remotest idea, Baldry, what you are talking about,” said Hoskyns, little stiffly. “Oh, come now, among old friends that won’t do, you know. Whether you’re in love or not is best known to yourself: But it certainly did strike me as something out of the common way to see you walking all alone, between ten and eleven last night, under the lime trees on the Thornfield road.” “You speak in riddles,” said Hoskyns. “I have not set foot on the Thornfield road for months.” Baldry stared at the lawyer, then rubbed his eyes, and then stared again. “Draw it mild, old friend,” he said quietly. “Don’t think for one moment that I want to pry into your private affairs, but I certainly thought there was no harm in my mentioning where I met you last night, especially as you seemed to make no secret of it yourself.” “I tell you again that I don’t understand what you are driving at,” said Hoskyns, testily. “I tell you again that I have not set foot on the Thornfield road for months.” “Look here,” said Baldry, and an angry flush overspread his face, making it redder than before, “do you mean to stand there and tell me in cold blood that you didn’t stop me on the Thornfield road last night, as I was driving home between ten and eleven? That you didn’t shout out to me, ‘Hullo, Baldry, is that you, old boy?’ That I didn’t stop the mare for five minutes, while we talked about the weather and such like? That you didn’t offer me your box, and that I didn’t take out of it a pinch of that identical snuff which nobody but you in all Duxley makes use of? Do you mean to stand there and tell me all that?” “Baldry,” said Hoskyns, “for you to make such a statement as that is to prove that last night you must have been either crazy or drunk. Last night I never left the house after eight o’clock: as my servant could certify on oath. And as for the Thornfield road, I tell you once more that I have not set foot on it since last Christmas.” “Ned,” shouted Baldry to some one inside, “come you here a minute.”